


Jump

by Ceminar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Familial Abuse, Foreign Object Penetration, Gen, Heavy Drinking, Humanstuck, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceminar/pseuds/Ceminar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the return of his father, Eridan reminisces on the time he almost ended it all, and the reason he didn't. He regrets his choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to summary. This is based off of an old RP I did with a friend. The original version was posted to my tumblr. This one has been edited, somewhat, before being posted here. Questions, comments, concerns? You can leave me a message on my tumblr at http://ameturecraftythinger.tumblr.com/, or in the comments below.
> 
> Enjoy your angst.

**Stop. Please, just STOP!**

You wanted to shout, to scream at your father as he beat you brother to a pulp.

But you couldn't. You could never stand against Dualscar. Cronus did, and look what happened.. Thrown around like a rag doll, degraded, kicked and beaten and spat on. When he was told to get his shit and get out, never to show his face again, you locked eyes for just a second before having to look away. You couldn't help him. You couldn't even help yourself. And your Father's next words just drove that point home. He had followed Cronus' gaze and laughed in his face before dropping him.

"You think your faggot little brother is goin' ta help ya?" He kicked Cronus in the ribs and, mentally, you flinched. Why did you have to say something, Cronus? "He wvon't do shit fir ya. Lookit 'im. Cowverin there. He wvon't do shit. Just gonna sit there and let it happen.” Well, that's how you were raised. 

_Wait your turn.  
Butt in and I'll fucking kill you._

“He doesn't care. I don't care. And guess what?" He squatted so that he was level with him. "Not one fuckin' person wvill evver care. No one wvill evver lovve you. Remember that wvhen you're lookin fir some place to stay.” Don't say that! He was loved! You loved him! Even if you were worthless, the fact that you loved your brother had to count for something! 

Right?

Dualscar straightened up and spat at Cronus, nothing more than a crumbled heap on the floor, before turning to you. "And you, ya little fuckin fairy. I'll deal wvith you later." He strode from the room, heading up the stairs and down the hall until the sounds of a door slamming could be heard.

Of course he was. He always got you last. Let you see what he could do before letting you experience it firsthand.

You were rooted to that spot on the couch. Only lips moving.  
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.'  
But no words came out. 

A few minutes later, you see your brother climb to his feet and drag himself to his room. His former room. Was he crying? Please, please don't cry. Please don't go.  
Don't leave me.

When he returned with only one bag, you knew. Felt it in the pit of your stomach.

All hope was lost.

You didn't move.  
You should never move when Dad was going to come for you next.  
You knew that. He drilled that into you.

Glassy eyed, you stared at nothing as your lips continued to move.  
You found your voice now.  
Barely.  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."  
Barely a whisper. Your teeth are chattering as you continue to shake, rocking in that spot. 

You couldn't help Cronus.  
You couldn't even help yourself.

Dad was back. He was going to start drinking again. Things were always worse when he started to drink. And you couldn't stop it. You could never stop it. No one could.

And now, you were going to be alone. Just you and Father. 

There was no way he was going to let you go with Cronus.  
He wasn't going to let you go with anyone.  
Anywhere.

You feel hot tears roll down your face and continued to apologize. You were trapped here. No one was going to save you. No one cared to. Not again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"  
That wasn't Dad. That was your brother. That was your Cro, shouting at you. He was just as sick of you as your own father was.

You flinched, mouth clamping shut.

**No... Please, no! Not you too. Please, Cro. Brother, please...**  
 **Don't turn into Dad.  
 **Don't yell.  
 **Don't...  
 **Don't hate me, too.********

You watch as your brother stares at you, an emotion you are sure is hate burning in his eyes as he put his hand to his mouth before turning. Leaving out the door. Slamming it shut.

He had his guitar.  
He had his bag.  
What did he need his brother for? 

**Please. Come back. Throww open the door. Scoop me up in your arms. Hold me like you used to wwhen wwe wwere kids, wwhen wwe thought daddy just had a bad day at wwork. Before wwe realized that he truly only treated us this wway because he hated us. Come back and tell me you lovve me and you'll alwways be there for me. Just like you used to.**

**Come back.**  
 **Savve me.  
 **Please.  
 **Don't leavve me here. Not again.******

Fresh tears ran down your face when you realized that wasn't going to happen. Your brother wasn't returning.  
Not for you.  
Not for anything. 

So, silently, you weep. Apologizes turning into pleads and prayers.

“I'm sorry. God, please. Someone. Anyone. Don't leavve me here. Don't abandon me. Please. Someone. Anyone. Please. Please. Please.”

You keep it up until you hear Dualscar came back downstairs.

**Don't look at him.**

But you couldn't help it.

Father was in a towel, having cleaned himself up after he finshed with his eldest son. He had a bottle of rum in one hand, already more than half empty. Seems he found his liquor cabinet. He held a belt loosely in the other. Genuine black leather with a silver buckle. It was nearly as intimidating as the man holding it.

"Looks like the good fir nothin is finally gone.” He raised the bottle to his lips and drank. Tonight was not going to be a good night. He lowered it and sneered at his youngest son. “Time ta wvork on you."

**Wwhy didn't I jump?**

The thought races through you. You should have jumped. Last year. Just ended it all there.

You remembered one of the last conversations had with Cronus before this. Just a few days ago. It was about how the two of you took their last phone calls with Father when he ran off with some woman and cut them out.

Cronus was told that Dualscar was no longer going to make payments on the house or anything else and that the brothers were on their own. His response was to get drunk and take a baseball bat to his own car. Not his brightest move.

But you couldn't talk. Not after you got your call from Dad.

You wished it was to tell you you were on your own financially.  
Instead, it was much darker.

Dualscar had called to tell you how big of a disappointment you were. To curse you. To tell you that he should have made your mother swallow instead, that way he would be down one worthless sack of shit.

He told you that the only way you could possibly make him proud would be if you killed yourself. And even then, the chances of him being proud were slim because you wouldn't even be able to do that right.

And he was right. Almost a week after that call, you found yourself on the other side of a bridge railing, looking down at the water that surrounded you campus. It was late. It was cold. No one was out, no one was even driving. You shouldn't have stopped. You shouldn't have BEEN stopped.

Yet some idiot, some other idiot that wasn't you, just happened to walk by at that moment. Happened to see you in the dark, holding onto the railing as you looked down at that dark abyss and start to welcome it. Happened to stick his stupid, painted face next to yours and ask in a low, but not unpleasantly so, voice, just what the motherfuck was going on. To say that it was a bit late to go for a swim, that it was stupid to go in dressed. Not to mention cold as fuck.

You told him you weren't going swimming. You didn't care about your clothes because you hoped to never came back up.

The idiot said that that was just too motherfucking bad. Shame someone was going to throw away a such a fucking miracle.

You ask what he means.

He gives you a stupid, goofy grin. He says, “A life, motherfucker. Greatest fucking thing next to some good bud and that wicked elixir.”

You tell him your life isn't a miracle. You tell him he's an idiot. To go away. You say that no one will miss you in the slightest. To your surprise, he just shrugs.

“Can't force ya to change your mind.” He says. “This motherfucker sure won't. Don't even know you.” He reached behind his ear, or maybe into his hair, it was so wild you couldn't tell, and pulled out something he put to his lips, reaching into his pockets for a lighter before taking a drag. You figure it was some of that 'good bud' he mentioned before. He blows out a line of perfect 'O's as he puts the lighter back in his pocket and chuckles. You think you hear him honk.

He asks, if he's an idiot, then what does that make you, holding on when you seem to have already made up your mind? He asks why the fuck you're crying.

You say you aren't. You say there's nothing to hang on to. You say you can jump anytime.

Another drag. Another laugh. You're sure it's a honk this time.

“Then let me lend my new brother a hand to send him on his way.” he says.

You start to ask what he means when you feel a hand slap you right in the middle of your back. It surprised you and the railing is let go. The ground is gone from under you. Only air. Darkness. You see the water under you, feel it draw near. You can practically feel the tendrils of whatever horrorterrors lie under those waves reach for you.

You cry out. You flail. Reach for something. Anything. You see his face. His stupid, goofy grin. You see your brother. You see Kar. They were probably the only ones who cared. You don't want to die. You don't want to be without them. You don't want to make them sad.

You scream until you feel a hand gripping your arm tight. Still nothing around you but darkness. Cold. But you feel the warmth from that touch.

“Told you you didn't want to die, brother. Honk.” You hear the smile in his voice and you open your eyes. When did you close them?

He's hanging onto the rail now, on the same side as you. With surprising strength, he's holding you with one hand. He pulls you up with a grunt until your feet are on solid ground again before slipping that arm around your waist and heaving you back on the other side, climbing over after.

“Damn... Lost my bud.” he says, sitting down with his back to the cold metal. You collapse in a heap in front of him, crying.

You tell him your sorry.  
He tells him it's no problem.  
You tell him thanks.  
He laughs and honks again.  
You tell him... You don't want anyone to know what happened.  
He just laughs again. Say this will stay between you, him, and his mirthful messiahs.  
You look confused and he honks again, leaning forward and tipping your face up. You see three scars across his face. They remind you of your father, but before you can flinch in fear, you realize that... Maybe they don't? They look good on him. He is... handsome.  
You tell him this. That he's handsome.  
He says you look like a fucking mess covered in tears with slime running from your nose.  
You start to apologize, say you shouldn't have said anything.  
He smiles. Honks. Kisses you.  
You're too shocked to move and he pulls away. Says that was for the bud he dropped.  
He helps you to your feet, say's he'll get you home.  
You say you don't want to go back there yet. You don't want to be alone.  
He takes you to his place without question.

Weeks later, you two are dating. It doesn't last. It was an experiment, mostly. A mutual one. You could have guessed it wouldn't last and you weren't wrong. He just wasn't the type. Too... himself? You don't know how to put it. He said he was sorry he couldn't be the type of man you deserved and you tell him it doesn't matter. He tells you he'll still be here if you need him. You thank him. Even without the titles, he helps you get back to your old self.

Your Self Before The Call.  
The Self that Kar and Cro loved.  
The one you thought they loved at least.

He stays even after you get expelled. Bullshit about you flirting with a teacher when it was the other way around.  
He offers to get back at him.  
You decline.  
He offers you a place to stay.  
You say you'll think about it.

 

Now, bent over your fathers bed, feeling the sting of the belt on your bare backside, your hips, your thighs. Your legs. Your back. You wish you had jumped. You wish that he had not changed his mind and grabbed for you. That he had missed and just laughed and honked as you fell. Hit the water. Sank beneath the waves and into the cold embrace of Death. Maybe you would surface once or twice? See that white painted face in the dark, so far above you.

What did he used to call those things?  
Angels.  
Angels of double death.

**He could havve been my Angel of Double Death.**

First goes your body to the cold that surrounds and fills you.  
Then the rest of you. Your heart. Your mind. Gone.  
He could have done it.  
You could have.

Feeling your father grab you by your hair, pull your head back until you feel your neck is about to snap, you realize.

**I should havve.**

His words sting almost as much at the belt that strikes you from time to time now.

“Fuckin faggot.” He's in your ear. You could probably get drunk just off his breath. You wish you could. Anything to not be here right now. “Good fir nothin. Just like ya wvorthless brother.”

**No, don't compare me to him. Don't mention him.**

“I didn't.”

You hear the belt drop.

“Fuckin'.”

You cry out when his ring-clad hand connects with bare skin, felt blood well up and start to drip.

“Raise ya.”

He grabs your cheeks roughly, forcing them apart and you tense.

**No. Please, God, no...**

“Ta be such WVORTHLESS!”

You try to crawl away when you feel something cold press against you, forcing itself inside. He scowls, grabs your hair and pushes your face into the mattress to still you. You continue to flail and the pressure stops.

You're spanked again, cries muffled by the mattress.

You go still and just sob. There was never any point in fighting it.

The pressure is back and this time, it forces itself in and you feel like something inside tears. Your cry out again, but he doesn't care.

“PIECES.”

He shoves in more of the bottle. You feel it start to get wider and you struggle again. He just moves his hand to the back of your neck and squeezes.

“OF SHIT!!!”

One final shove. If something inside you wasn't torn before, it is now. You scream. You flail. Tears run from your eyes and soak into the mattress. He squeezes your neck again, cutting off the sobs before he turns you over onto your back. When he moves his hand you start to sob again. He isn't having that.

He draws his hand back and slaps you across the face.

Your eyes widen and you can taste blood.

He grabs your face, lowering his to yours.

His eyes are filled with contempt.

“Wvhat's the matter, fairy? Don't ya LIKE taking shit up the ass?”

He grabs the bottle. Grinds it into you. Twists it and turns it like he's trying to make it fit better.

You just weep quietly. Silently begging for death. That one of these days, in his drunken, hateful rage, he'll hit you too hard, throw you just the right way and you bash your head in. Throw you down the stairs and you'll break your neck.

He continues to fuck you with the bottle.

You're just thankful he isn't fucking you himself.

He continues to insult you. Inform you how useless your life is.

He tells you you should die.

You wish you could.

He tells you he should kill you himself.

 **Please.**  
You nearly beg him to.  
 **Please, do.**

He tells you you aren't worth the time to.

 **No! I am!**  
You nearly scream at him to reconsider.  
 **Please! I am! Kill me!**

He tells you that no one will ever love you. Just like your brother.

You agree to the first part.

You want to hit him for the second.

He tells you that the Vantas boy only pities you, pretends to be your friend.

 **That's not true!**  
You feel whats left of your heart break.  
 **He is my friend! He is...**

He tells you no one is going to save you.

And you sob. Because you know.

**That wwas made clear wwhen Cro shouted. Wwhen he left wwithout another wword to me. Wwithout lookin back at me.**

But your brother will always be loved.

Karkat will always be loved.

That idiot with the face paint and the stupid, goofy smile will always be loved.

**I guess.**

Even if they hate you. Despise you. Even if they no longer care about you.

**I wwill always lovve them.**

Except for now.

Now, you hate only one person more than you hate yourself.

It isn't the man, making you wish death upon yourself as he tries to force the bottle deeper inside you, tries to claw more screams of pain and terror from you.

It isn't your brother for leaving you.

It isn't Karkat.

You could never hate Karkat.

It is that idiot.

**My sweet angel of double death.**  
 **The one wwho savved me.  
 **The one that made me remember those that I thought- think- lovved me.  
 **The one that stopped me from jumpin.******

And when Dualscar finally got bored with you. When he finally pulled the bottle from you and dropped you to the floor. Gave you a hard kick to the side and sent you rolling, unable to cry out because your voice was lost what feels like ages ago. When your phone goes off once from the tattered pile of your clothing and he grabs it, throws it against the wall and you hear it smash to pieces. When he grabs you by the throat and throws you from his room, and your legs give out, making you trip down the stairs and you lay there, almost sure you broke something.

**I wwish he hadn't.**  
 **I wwish he had nevver savved me.  
 **I wwish he had let me fall.****

He is the one you hate more than anything.

**And yet, I lovve him still.**

And it's his face you see as the pain finally overcomes you and darkness embraces you.


End file.
